Snapshots in Other Flowing Air
by arin
Summary: Companion/Competition pieces to "Photographs in the Wind" by Shane C. Why should he have all the fun with the prompts, right? ; Join us if you dare!
1. First Kiss

_I've seen fic challenges on this site before, and while, yes, I understand the value of challenging /oneself/ as an author, I thought… hey, wouldn't competition be fun? And Shane and I have become fairly good friends (at least very intense friends) over the last month, so I thought it might be amusing to join him in his most recent challenge endeavor and he agreed. _

_This is, therefore, a companion piece to his "Photographs in the Wind". I'll be using the same prompts he's using and, with the exception of this first chapter, will not read his entry until I've posted my own. I'm going to try to follow his "under 500 words" guideline as well, and the short stories will be shots from an "expanded" series canon to include both derivate works from the actual books and, occasionally, derivative works from his and my other stories on the site. The latter will, of course, be fully referenced. _

_But enough exposition, on to the game!__  
_

* * *

**First Kiss**

I trembled and wondered, not for the first time, how I had gotten myself into this mess. Staying off of Visser Three's radar was priority one for any loyal Yeerk, and yet somehow I had been chosen as his experimental subject for what had to be one of the most distasteful propositions in history.

Normally watching the Visser morph to human is a relief; not that he wouldn't have you killed anyway if his whim demanded it, but without that Andalite tail you could count on the end being not quite as painful or imaginative. But this time, even as the Visser's tail dissolved and his seven-fingered Andalite hands slowly shifted in shades from blue to pink, I kept every ounce of my apprehension. I couldn't imagine how I was going to get out of this alive.

At least the Visser's morph wasn't entirely unattractive. He took his Lieutenants' advice on which hosts to use when performing the _Frolis Maneuver_, and six rather attractive humans were chosen for the task.

"Begin," the Visser ordered, as casually as if he were asking for a morning briefing.

I cleared my host's throat. "Well, umm… first we come closer, Visser. And then we… we sort of wrap our arms around each other. Like this." I skulked slowly forward and tentatively, awkwardly, wrapped my Commanding Officer in my best impersonation of a hug.

The Visser raised his human eyebrow momentarily, but complied easily enough, and soon we were in each other's arms. "Then what?" he asked tersely.

"Now we open our mouths," I answered, unable to keep the blush from my host's cheeks. "And we take the pink muscle inside and begin exploring the backs of each other's teeth."

«That's the most ridiculous explanation I've ever heard,» my host quipped, but I ignored it. Besides, how else do you explain a kiss to a being that's not even used to having a mouth in the first place? _Get it over with_, I told myself, leaning forward and doing exactly as I described.

Surprisingly, the Visser wasn't bad at it. «Maybe you should start calling him Kisser Three,» my host teased.

When I pulled back, the Visser looked at me curiously. "This is such a powerful motivation that you believe it can lead scores of hosts to us?" he asked.

I couldn't help myself. I asked the self-conscious question just as my host would. "Was I.. was it not good, Visser?"

Visser Three shrugged his human shoulders, a gesture he had learned in a previous session. "It was… pleasant enough. Hardly seems like it would be as powerful as you suggest, though."

I smiled. "Oh, it gets better than that, that's just the start," I remarked.

"What comes next?" he asked.

I blushed again. "Well, umm.. Visser… I /could/ show you the next step, but human social convention in these matters would require you to find a Yeerk with a _female_ host body."


	2. Final

**Final**

Social studies is not my favorite subject, and strictly speaking, I don't think it's a very fair one. Seriously, think about it. History keeps getting longer, right? An American kid in 1976, for example, would only have to learn about 200 years' worth of events in American History class, but an American kid in 2026 has to learn about 250 years' worth just to try to achieve the same grade. How is that fair? There should be a curve or something, like, "Okay, you needed forty minutes to take this kind of a test fifty years ago, so we'll give you forty-eight minutes today, since the test covers 20% more material."

Worse was the subject matter here. The ninth grade final was all on the Yeerk war and Early Human/Andalite relations. And I was stuck on friggin' number two.

"Which human industry was spared bankruptcy by the Andalite perception of it's waste products as rare and flavorful delicacies." Again, such an unfair question. If I had been a kid in 2010, for example, I bet the answer would be so plainly obvious, because Andalites were a rare sight on Earth back then, but in 2053 there were at least seventeen "foods" in the 'For Andalites Only' section on a typical diner menu. Which one did they find first? How the hell was I supposed to know?

I glanced out the window. Azshara-Kalili-Garrosh was out there, playing around in her _kafit_ bird morph, waiting for me to get out of school since the Andalites had started their summer vacation almost a month ago. I glanced at her and then glanced my eyes down to the paper, a silent plea.

«No way,» she laughed. «I'm not helping you cheat. Better figure it out or you'll be the BUTT of all the jokes in my scoop, mmmmm?»

I rolled my eyes. I knew that was supposed to be some clever hint, but it just made it worse. What kind of food would have to do with my butt?

So I wrote Candy Corn. After all, it's not like humans cared for it anywhere NEAR as much as Andalites do.


	3. Numb

**Numb**

"Just do it," I insisted angrily, leaning back in the dentist's chair.

The dentist, a compassionate Asian woman, shook her head. "Absolutely not, John. You /have/ to let me give you a painkiller." She held out her drill. "Do you see this? This is going to be ripping at the nerve in your tooth. If I don't make you numb…"

At the sound of that word, I went a little nuts.

"NEVER," I shouted, grabbing her violently by the collar. "I will never, ever feel numb again. You know what numb is? Numb is knowing that it's pushing at you. INTO you. Numb is your inner ear practically ripping open while you don't feel a thing, not a damned thing. And then suddenly it's not just the pain you're not feeling. It's your arm. Your leg. Hunger. Thirst. Anything. And then something else is looking out your eyes and moving your mouth."

I let go of her collar. I realized I'd been spitting on her. I took a deep breath, and leaned back. "So /numb/ is not an option," I repeated, firmly but more gently. "All the excruciating pain in the world is never going to convince me to ever, ever feel numb again. GOT it?"

She did. And when she went to work, I did feel every last bit of the pain. The excruciating, horrible pain that made me grip the chair and curl my toes and, when possible without interfering with her work, even scream out in pure, blissful agony.

And I thanked God for every last second of it.


	4. Broken Wings

"And Prince Jake approves?" Ax asked for like the eightieth time. And then, just because he's Ax, followed it up by playing with the double-P sound. "Puh-Prooo! Proo! Puh-poo!"

The last one made me snicker. "Prince Jake suggested it himself," I said, clapping Ax on the back of the shoulder (and nearly causing him to fall over). "Trust me, it'll be fine."

Mind you, what Jake had actually said was, "Yeah, right. I'm going to distract the Captain of the football team while you try to snag his girlfriend. You'd have a better chance with Ax as your wingman." Honestly, though, can Jake really fault me for taking his advice? I think not.

Ax wasn't so naive anymore, though. "I have noticed that you only use my title for… Title! Tie tie tie… ahem… my title for Prince Jake when you are attempting to deceive me."

Oops. Note to self: stop doing that. "Don't be ridiculous, Ax. Trust me, it's not dangerous, just… follow the same rules as when you were at my dad's, okay? Just yes and no."

I sent Ax off to find Brian McGee, and then I pulled Alicia Heartley over and the two of us had a good talk. Strike that, a GREAT talk. Without a lot of talking, if you know what I mean. But just when it was starting to get good, I found myself getting slugged in the eye and kicked in the ribs. Turns out their conversation went like this:

"He's trying to take my girlfriend, isn't he?"

"Yes."

"Oh, admitting it. I like that. That's okay, she's going to be faithful to me."

"No."

"What? How do you know, have you kissed her?"

"Yes."

"You're not afraid I'm going to kick your ass for admitting that?"

"No."

"Oh, a tough guy, huh. What, you learn your skills from Marco?"

"Yes."

"You don't think I could kick his ass?"

"No."

"Oh yeah, how'd you like to see me try it?"

"Yes."

Andalites make horrible wingmen.


End file.
